


Flotsam Spring

by planetdweeb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetdweeb/pseuds/planetdweeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a homeless!harry slowly but surely falls madly in love with a lonely!louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flotsam Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter just shows kinda what theirs lives are like so i thought i'd just say that okay bye

Rain delicately patted against the cardboard box, coaxing a low hum from the back of Harry's throat. He curled up in his thick blankets, enjoying the gentle sound of rainfall. A toothless, dimpled grin tugged at his lips as he flitted his eyes shut. He nuzzled his naturally rosy cheeks against his pillow, purring like the massive kitten he is.

Harry was glad spring was coming his way and the cold disaster of winter was gone.If Harry was to be completely honest, being homeless in the spring and summer isn't as bad as people would think.

Sure, being homeless has never been easy, but Harry always found a way to cheer himself up in his lowest moods.

His eyes slowly fluttered open as the rainfall became more delicate. Harry poked his head out of his box to take a look. A giggly smile tugged at his lips, his eyes scanning the faint rainbow plastered across the sky; Even the littlest things made Harry so happy.

He crawled out of his box, smiling wide like a child. Harry has always loved nature. Harry was raked away from his thoughts as he heard footsteps come by. His eyes flickered frantically.

He crawled back into his box, shyly fiddling with his lanky fingers. The only thing Harry didn't about being homeless, was the _people_.

It doesn't matter who it was, Harry was always just too shy to even properly function around other human beings. Harry has never been rude, never overly begged or disturbed anyone.

He spends most of his time in his cardboard box, watching people walk by, or finishing up his crossword puzzle he had gratefully gotten from a stranger.

Sure, Harry has begged, but not the the extent of being annoying to anyone that crosses by. He'd politely ask, and would nod understandingly if they said no. Harry was hungry, and he could feel his boney ribs with ease, but he was grateful he got food at all. He was grateful he was even _alive_.

Harry's smile faded, a subtle pain washing over the joints of his knees; if he doesn't walk around enough, his joints begin to ache. As much as he needed to move around, he hated being surrounded by people with scornful glares and judgmental whispers.

They acted as if Harry was a monster, just because he was different. Just because he didn't have a normal life style, just because he's _homeless_. Through the haze of procrastination and shyness, he decided to push away his fear and take a walk.

"C'mon Harry, just don't pay attention to 'em." He murmured softly under his breathe as he popped up from his cardboard box.

He flickered his eyes around, his green eyes literally _glittering_ in the bright sunlight. His dimpled grin tugged at his lips once more as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

He walked down the street with his cherry grin, either earning polite smiles or odd glares.

Harry hummed a small tune as he walked, his bright eyes gazing around the busy street. His naturally bloated tummy growled as he stared at his favorite restaurant. Though he's never been inside, it's always been his favorite.

He looked in through the windows, his grin growing more eager as he gazed at the decor. The beautiful chandeliers, the beautiful chairs, tables, even the stunning people. Harry was snapped from his thoughts by an enraged chef that bellowed at him through the window.

He didn't understand him, but he knew exactly what he meant. Harry cowered, his bright eyes glassy and blown out. His plump bottom lip puffed out slightly as he slowly walked away.

Harry inhaled deeply, exhaling with a pleased hum. The smell of the food was always so delectable. As much as he hated scavenging through the trash for food, it had to be his only resort for today. He quickly slipped over to the massive trash bin, his body plastered against the brick wall. He giggled to himself softly, imagining he was a secret agent on a mission; Harry always had a childish imagination.

He creeped over to the bin with a teensy grin. He poked his head in, the scent of deliciously fresh food filling his senses. He managed to grab in quickly, pulling up a chunk of spiced chicken. Harry practically squealed at how unharmed and edible the chicken was. He devoured it quickly, rubbing his satisfied belly in delight.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

Harry's eyes widened with fear, and he instantly ran for it. His heart thumped against his ribs, panting as he ran.

"Eh, Bastard! Get back over here!"

He looked back quickly, the same chef staring him down with a menacing glare. Harry whimpered, hot tears welling in his eyes; Harry hated being yelled at, he hated the feeling it gave him.

He turned the corner, skidding over to his cardboard box. He tumbled in, throwing his thick blankets over him. Harry cautiously peeked through the blankets.

He grinned proudly to himself as he watched the chef walk past his box, muttering under his breathe in confusion.

Harry nuzzled his face against his pillow, giggling like the child he is. He flipped over to his other side, a small grunt falling past his plump lips. He looked down, letting out another childlike squeal as he realized it was another crossword puzzle; a nice old lady always brought him little trinkets like puzzles or even coloring books.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" e chirped (even though no one was there), squirming around happily in his blankets. He got out his pen, flipping onto the first page of his new crossword puzzle.

 

**_(louis);_ **

Louis' shoes clicked softly as he hummed a small tune. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his eyes flickering amongst the bright town. Louis loved to walk around at night. He loved how the stars sparkled, and how the city lights flared with color.

Louis slumped down onto a bench, running his fingers through his hair once again. He looked up at the stars with a toothless grin. He let out a low hum as he enjoyed that late night, spring breeze.

He looked over at the empty space beside him on the bench, a small sigh falling past his lips. He nibbled at his bottom lip as he gazed at the bright city lights. Of course, Louis loved walking, but he wished he could walk _with_ someone.

As much as he truly hated to admit it, he was lonely. Lives alone, works alone, sleeps alone, wakes up alone. Yes, Louis does have friends and family, but the endless despair to have a _different_ kind of company ached inside of him. Though he was grateful he had anyone at all.

As Louis absentmindedly stared at the lights, he thought of how wonderful it would be to spoil his lover; if he ever got one. But a man can dream, can't he?

He imagined buying everything they've ever wanted, running them bubble baths, showering them with compliments, giving them massages, _anything_. Since Louis got his paycheck, he really has nothing to spend his money on. Except for bills, that is. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, heaving out a sigh as he ran his hands along his tired face.

Louis yawned loudly. He felt as if he almost had to fight to keep his eyes open now. He wobbled up to his feet, another yawn passed lips. Louis stuck his hand back into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, settling the box back into his pocket. He hastily lit the cigarette, concealing the flame from the wind.

Once it was lit, he puffed out a small smoke cloud. He pulled his cigarette from his lips, coughing softly into his fist. Even though Louis was used to smoking now, it still stung his throat some days.

Louis gently tapped his cheek in attempt to keep himself awake. He brought the cigarette back between his lips. He puffed out yet another smoke cloud.

Louis unexpectedly jolted as he felt a small raindrop his against his broad shoulder.

"Oh fuckin' hell," He hissed under his breathe, picking his pace up.

Before he knew it, it was _pouring_. His cigarette, along with himself, was now soggy and cold.

Louis began to imagine how terrible it must be for homeless people when it rains, or even snows at that. The thought made him cringe. Everything makes him cringe when he's tired.

He eventually made it home. Louis, being to idiotic man child he is, decided to pass out on the couch with his sopping wet clothes on. He still slept like a baby.


End file.
